Veils

Like Caliph Haroun Al-Rashid
I walk the streets of my city
I go all places

In the dark alleyways
quickening heart, fear.

With my lover
a different woman entirely.

On Jalan Haji Taib
I look up a dirty flight of stairs
I am there
legs spread
eyes on the ceiling
being fucked.

At the Islamic Arts Museum
they hold an exhibition about women in Islam
I am there
skin tingling
pride trickling from an ancestral stream.
I could wear a tudung easily
and look good in it.

My mother is doing Tai Chi
pushing and pulling me
in the dim glow of dawn.

I walk into a bar
and focus all my allure
in one spot behind my shoulder blades
The gazes blaze
and elongate me:
I taste power.

When I go home my father
cooks me dinner
and lunch
and supper
in lieu of conversation.
I am my father's daughter.
He doesn't know all my names
but for love
you will submit
to the one you were given

Alone
I stare at this body:
fire today
coal tomorrow.
Set me in my grave
or even better
scatter me over the great sea
still burning hot;
but older.
Please, much older.